Orwell's Roses

by Rebecca Solnit

Beauty is not only formal, and it lies not only in the superficial qualities that are appealing to the eye or ear; it lies in patterns of meaning, in invocations of values, and in connection to the life the reader is living and the world she wants to see. A dancer’s gesture may be beautiful because it is a precisely executed move by a highly skilled artist-athlete, but even a gracefully executed kick of a child is ugly. The meaning subverts the form, and elegance of form is always capable of being corrupted by what meaning it delivers. “The first thing that we demand of a wall is that it shall stand up,” Orwell wrote in his critique of the painter Salvador Dalí. “If it stands up, it is a good wall, and the question of what purpose it serves is separable from that. And yet even the best wall in the world deserves to be pulled down if it surrounds a concentration camp.” Form cannot be separated from function. And the beauty—or the hideousness—can be in meaning, impact, implications, rather than appearance.